


Aftermath

by incandescentshadows



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: M/M, coldwaughter, post-monster fix it, queliot, tumblr ask prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 09:35:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18333365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incandescentshadows/pseuds/incandescentshadows
Summary: Quentin cleared his throat and turned towards the closed bedroom door.“I’ll just, uh-” He waved in a vague way.





	Aftermath

The awkward silence left by Julia’s exit lingered between them. Eliot still rested in the massive Fillorian bed, his dark curls splayed out against the pillow propping him up.

“Is there anything I can-” Quentin started, and then stopped. Tried again. “Or, um. Do you need-”

Quentin looked almost as destroyed as Eliot and more than one of their friends had tried to bully him into resting. Now, as he tucked his hair behind his ear he stopped talking and just stared at Eliot like he was seeing the cozy horse for the first time again.

“Q-” Eliot’s voice was a rasp. He still didn’t have much energy. They still hadn’t had a moment to themselves until now. Quentin cleared his throat and turned towards the closed bedroom door.

“I’ll just, uh-” He waved in a vague way.

“Quentin, stop.” Eliot’s voice had always held a kingly quality to it, and even with the damage to his vocal cords still healing it was enough to drag Quentin back to his side, to where he could hear the whispered question that came next. “What the fuck did the Monster do. What did it do as me?“

_Nothing_

That was Quentin’s first response, the knee jerk reaction of wanting to keep Eliot far far away from the damage that his body had wrecked while he’d been trapped inside.

“You don’t want to know.” He said instead. The answering scowl was so Eliot that it broke his heart. He was back. They were safe. It didn’t matter how they got there.

“Yes, I do,” Eliot said, struggling to sit up higher. Quentin hurried to help, hovering, a nervous hummingbird as he reached out to straighten pillows and then stopped halfway, daring not to touch. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

“I don’t – I don’t want to talk about, about all of. About everything.”

“Q-”

“No,” Quentin said, and there was a hard look in his eyes now. “It doesn’t matter, Eliot. What it did, the people who were hurt and the gods that were killed, that wasn’t you. The whole time I knew - I knew you were in there and that you weren’t in control, and I’ve done things that-”

“Okay, okay.” Eliot raised his hands. “I get it. We’ll talk about it later, and Q we will talk about it. How about, for now, you come over here and let me tell you about what I was doing while I was trapped in here. I wasn’t just sitting around drinking imaginary booze and having an eternal party, you know.”

“No?”

“No,” Eliot reached out, grabbing Quentin’s hand and looking him in the eye. “I was learning how to be brave.”


End file.
